


alvin and the chipmunks all burn out at 20 lmao

by comrade_silvermist



Category: Alvin and the Chipmunks - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Social Media, Sort Of, its not fully social media i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comrade_silvermist/pseuds/comrade_silvermist
Summary: i've never written fanfiction before. i read enough that i should know how to tag things but idk what to tag this as. its my take on where the chipmunks and chipettes would be in their late 20 - early 30s. this started out ironic but it no longer is. i put an insane amount of work into this. it has no right being as good as it is for an alvin and the chipmunks fanfiction inspired by a single jackbox joke that i became unreasonably obsessed with. this isnt quarantine mental illness by the way i have always been like this and likely always will. i know there are spelling errors in this section but the real fic is better. i do spell britneeys name differently each time but thats a bit. also because i dont know how to spell britnie.
Kudos: 10





	1. alvin seville

**Author's Note:**

> this starts out in the format of a news article but it will change very quickly.

Everyone generation has a few unique pop culture phenomena that defined their adolescence. For those of us born in the late 90s and early 2000s, those were the bands Alvin and the Chipmunks, and their female counterpart, the Chippettes

The hugely popular boy group and girl group dominated the pop culture scene of the early 2000s. Their music was constantly playing on the radio, their concerts sold out minutes after tickets were released, and teen magazines were littered with personality quizzes to match you with one of the child stars. Despite defining the culture of this decade, the bands both fizzled out rather unceremoniously after barely five years of being active, with only three of those years truly being in the spotlight. Since then, while everyone still remembers the bands, the members themselves have fallen into near complete obscurity.

In light of the ten year anniversary of the Chipmunks and Chipettes both winning Grammys for their albums C- and 2 Much, which also happened to be their last public appearance.

Alvin Seville has almost completely disappeared from the public eye since the Chipmunks disbanded. He has not been involved in any major projects since that time, and has not expressed any interest in doing so.

\------------

Alvin’s alarm was ringing. It was not helping his already pounding head. He felt like it had been going for much longer than it should have been, he was sure he’d hit the snooze button. (he hadn’t, he’d just thrown his arm in the general direction.) He tried burying his head under the pillow, but that did nothing to muffle the sound. He finally got up and reached over for his phone. It was 11:08 am. There were words on the screen, but he didn't want to read them. If he was missing some sort of meeting, he’d rather not know. He turned it off, and the ringing finally stopped. He leaned over to his nightstand on the other side of the bed, and grabbed the open can next to his bed, hoping it wasn't beer. That probably wouldn't help his hangover. It was half empty, and he downed it in one go. Luckily, it was not beer. Unlucky, it was coca cola, and it was flat. He laid back down, and closed his eyes. Thank god he’d been smart enough to close the curtains last night, that light would have driven him crazy right now. He could finally go back to bed. He flipped his pillow over, and laid down on the cool side, closing his eyes-  
And then his fucking alarm went off again.  
\------------  
Alvin actually did get up later, sometime in the afternoon. He even checked his phone, he could be a responsible adult sometimes. After seeing the 183 texts and 21 missed calls he turned it off and threw it back on his bed, it was not one of those times.

He couldn’t decide if he needed a shower or coffee. He decided he’d get coffee then take a shower. Then he’d probably feel more awake. He was out of coffee in his house, and he’d lost his driver's license a few weeks ago and still hadn't bothered to find it. So he could either walk the mile and half to starbucks, or get an Uber. Getting and Uber would mean getting his phone though…

Walking it was. He grabbed a hoodie, his wallet, and.. Fuck. He had no fucking idea where his keys were. He was not putting up with this today, he’d just leave the door unlocked, it’d probably be fine.

Once he was actually outside it was colder than he’d expected. He should have worn a warmer sweater. It was fine, he’d done this walk plenty of times. Really, this walk would probably do more to wake him up than the coffee or the shower would. The cold definitely helped. Maybe a bit too much, it was as cold as balls. He wished he’d taken a thicker hoodie. It was fucking freezing. He didn’t even want the coffee now, and he was wide awake anyway. But if he gave up and turned around now he’d just hate himself for it later. Got that was stupid wasn’t it. It was just a walk to get coffee, what did it even matter. But fuck, this was also probably the only thing he’d do today. There was no way in hell he was going to go through his texts. He couldn’t even check his email ever, god fuck, he’d forgotten his email. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d checked his email, that was probably a mess. A mess he was never gonna deal with though. God he never dealt with anything. He never did anything. He just sat around in his fucking house all day, rotting in his stupid goddamn bed. At most he’d play the occasional video. He’d been like this for so fucking long, he’d just been sitting around on his ass since the goddamn chipmunks broke up. He’d thought so highly of himself then to, watching Britnee and Theodore try and fail to stay in music. At least they’d been doing something. Who was he to judge them, they had things they cared about, stuff they did, the most he did was play video games and sleep.

God, he’d been standing at this light for forever. Why hadn’t it changed? He was just going to cross and take his chances if it didn't change soon. What would it matter anyway, if he was hit. It’d be the most interesting thing he'd done in years. He’d probably get a few news articles, people would care again, for a few days at least. He missed the media circus he used to be caught up in. He’d hated it at the time, he’d constantly complained that he wished he could spend all his time playing video games, sleep, and jacking off. But work had been fulfilling. He’d had something to do, and the downtime felt deserved. Like a real break. And as much work and stress as it was, being in the public eye, he’d always been a bit of an attention whore. Everyone else used to complain about social media, and having to work so hard to keep up an image while consistently posting, but he’d loved the comments and likes and replies. Him and Eleanor, that the only thing they’d ever really bonded over. Fuck, he should call Eleanor. She was doing well, she was actually doing shit. A lot of shit, apparently. She was trending on twitter all the fucking time now. The stupid traffic light still hadn’t changed. Fuck it, he was going to cross anyway, and- The light changed. Cool or whatever. He kept walking. He could see the coffee place now. Looked like he could do one thing. He’d walked all the way here. He didn’t even want anything anymore, but he was already here, might as well get something, Fuck, maybe they had food. He should get breakfast of some sort.

This was fine. He’d feel better after he ate. Maybe he’d actually stop dicking around and call Eleanor when he got home. He’d be fucking fine.


	2. Brittny Miller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do not know how britnee is spelled. i do not fucking care. this is now a bit. i think its funny to regularly mispell her name. Also i don't count the article bits to the word count per chapter in my head, and this chapter minus the article is 999 words. isn't that interesting? i've been shooting for just over 1000 per chapter, but fuck it i think this si interesting.

Following the disbandment of the Chipettes, Brinty announced she would be taking a break from music. She left it open ended on whether or not she would be returning. What surprising few people know, is that she did return to music only a few short years later, and has been making music solo ever since. Her sound has changed over the years she spent away from the music scene. While the Chipettes were a beloved band, many critics at the time complained of their autotuned, over produced, often meaningless lyrics. None of Britnnys modern music shows these features. As a solo indie artist, her music has evolved into something much more unique, exploring themes of youth, creation, and, as she stated in a recent interview “the inherent dehumanization of fame”.

\--------------

Eleanor wasn’t looking at her. Britnee forgot whether she was editing videos or setting up a stream, or doing some other shit she wouldn’t understand, but she was typing away and glancing around at what Britny assumed to be other monitors. Britnie had honestly no idea why Eleanor always insisted on doing video calls, she’d usually end up looking at something else on her computer anyway. They’d known each other long enough that Britnee knew Eleanor was listening, even if she didn’t look at it, but it still felt a bit rude.

“It's just strange. I’ve been feeling alright for a while, which is nice of course,” Eleanor just nodded along, still not looking, “But it always makes me so anxious. At first it was because I would get so concerned that it would ruin my music, because a lot of it does stem from my emotions.”

“One of the major pitfalls of creative work, huh.” Eleanor always glanced at the camera when she talked. Sometimes she’d hold eye contact for a while, and actually visibly listen, but usually she’d just briefly look over. She did the latter as she responded.

“Yeah. It’s funny how long it took me to catch onto the fact that it was untrue. And I still worry about it, but I can identify it now so it's easier to deal with,” Eleanor just kept nodding along, “Then what worries me is that I’m going to fall back into it anyway. That it's somehow unavoidable. And I know thats dumb as well, but it still worries me.”  
“I get that. Like, understanding the issue doesn’t do nearly as much to fix the issue as you’d think. It’s just the same shit framed differently.”

“Exactly. SO it sets me on edge, and then I get scared my anxiety will ruin it and make my mental health shitty again, and it all feeds in on itself. Which is more fucking annoying than anything else.”

“Mhm. Ignorance is bliss and what not.”

Britnie just hummed in response. She opened her phone to scroll through twitter, watching Eleanor type away was getting boring.

“Oh, shit. It’s three. Don’t you have to go now?”

“Oh!” Eleanor looked at the type, then finally at the camera, “Yeah, yeah I have something right now. Sorry to leave so abruptly. Bye Britney, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Eleanor, have fun with what you're doing.” Eleanor waved bye, and ended the call, leaving Brittney in her office alone.

She looked over her desk. She had loose paper with notes and individual lines and verses scribbled across the, a miasma of promising nonsense. She hadn’t actually finished a song yet, but she had enough ideas and enough time that she still wasn’t concerned. If anything, with how fast she’d been going, she was more worried she’d finish too quickly and be stuck with too much time to go over and edit her songs. Britney detested strict deadlines, they always made her procrastinate, but when she had more time to work on her lyrics she’d start to hate them. Find every little issue and worry non stop. Edit it to hell and back until it wasn’t even good anymore. Britny hated complaining about creative work. It felt so obnoxious, most people spent years trying to be able to do what she did. It still fucking sucked sometimes. Eleanor got it at least. Eleanor kept telling her that she needed more friends in music. More close friends, she had plenty of friends in music. Britnee thought Eleanor needed more friends who had been child stars to talk to. 

She leaned back in her chair. She was just fed up with all this. She felt better, having talked to Eleanor. She’d been really off yesterday. God, fuck, what if she was slipping back into a depressive episode. She’d been doing so well for so long. Sure, it was a bit unrealistic to hope it would last forever, but it would have been nice to at least get a bit more time. She always fucking did this, every time something was going well she’d go and fuck it up. She’d gone and ruined the Chipettes. Sure, they'd all hated it by that point, Jeanette had been tired of music, and Eleanor had been tired of not having control of her image, and Britnee had just been fucking tired of it all. But.. 

God she sounded obnoxious. She was doing it again. Making herself feel worse for no reason. Eleanor was doing well, she was doing well. Jeanette was.. Jeanette was a whole fucking ordeal that she had nothing to do with and wasn’t in the headspace to think about. She needed something else to do, to keep her busy. She could go out today. Call someone up and go out to eat. Or watch tv. Or take a nap. She’d been up late writing, and had ended up just staying awake all night when she remembered she had a meeting in three hours at 5 a.m.. After that she’d decided to run errands, gotten lunch, and gotten home right as Eleanor had called. 

She wasn’t tired yet though. And she still had a fair amount of energy. She could always make dinner. Sure, that would be fun. She got up and headed towards her kitchen. She’d gotten groceries at the store, she could make pasta. She started boiling water, and went back to her phone as she waited. She checked her email, nothing particularly important. She looked at her texts, and didn’t see anything urgent. She went back to her cooking.

Britnie had always liked cooking. She was somewhat shit at it, but it was nice. She liked the rules, which were easy to follow but loose enough to allow her to fuck up. Fuck up at least a little bit, that is, she still got stressed out by more complicated dishes. It made her feel accomplished though. She finished her food, and sat down to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am genuinely doing research for these. isnt that wild? every time i do research the my conclusion is that i didnt need to. i read a ton of mitski and lorde interviews to write this, and while i think mitski and lorde interviews are usually interesting, they have some good stuff to say. wait this sentence ended incorrectly. eh. i have so much fucking homework due tomorrow. well, today, as its 3:30 am. anyway, this is already to long. have a delightful day, and thank you for reading this.

**Author's Note:**

> alvin definitely peaks in the chipmunks, but then again, so do most of them. its the worst for alvin though. i think hed be a bojack horseman type character. a few of my friends have suggested that he also has internalized homophobia he struggles with but idk i didnt feel like adding that.


End file.
